Fields of Blood (The DeathSpeaker Codex Book 2)

by Sonya Bateman

  “I’d not intended to stop you.” Taeral reached across the table and took Sadie’s hand. “We will both accompany you, a’ghreal,” he said hoarsely.

  Her breath caught. “Taeral, I can’t ask you to do that,” she whispered.

  “You’ve no need to ask. I am offering—and it appears he is demanding,” he said, gesturing at me. “Gideon is right. Though you are strong, the risk is too great for you alone.” He flashed a sardonic smile. “And where my foolish brother plunges headlong into danger, I must follow.”

  Great. Like I didn’t already feel bad enough for being angry. “That’s another thing we need to work on,” I said. “You never mentioned you could die if you fail to protect me.”

  “No, I did not. I saw no need to—” He closed his eyes. “Who’s told you this?”

  “Reun.”

  “Of course he did.”

  “He also said I’m the reason you’re not at full power. Because of your promise.”

  Taeral looked at me. I did not like his expression, at all. “Where is that Seelie bastard?” he growled.

  “He’s outside,” I said. “Taeral…”

  Without another word, he stood and stalked from the room.

  Sadie and I glanced at each other and rushed after him.

  We got to the door just in time to see Reun fly through the air and smash into the outer brick wall of the hotel. He staggered and dropped to his knees.

  Taeral stomped after him. “How dare you speak to my brother of promises, after what you’ve done to me?” he roared, hauling him to his feet and holding him there. “If I’d no use for you, I’d destroy you where you stand, Seelie.”

  “Taeral, stop. It’s something I should have known,” I said.

  He glared at me through the beating rain. “You know nothing of this matter, Gideon. This one does,” he spat, turning a sneer on Reun. “I thought you arrogant enough for pleading your innocence on the basis of a gealdht, when you’ve twisted that very bond against me. I’ll not have you meddling in a promise that was not made to you. I chose to make this vow—unlike the one you forced me into.”

  Astonishment crept into Reun’s pained expression. “I’ve not forced you into anything.”

  “Are you actually trying to deny it?” With a vicious snarl, Taeral swung a fist into his jaw. Reun’s head snapped aside and smashed against the brick.

  “Please,” Reun gasped. “I’ve no idea what you mean.”

  “Your wife’s dagger! The stone circle!” Taeral shook him. “Do you mean to tell me you’ve forgotten?”

  “I…”

  “Taeral!” I dashed outside, mindless of the rain. The first time Reun was here, Taeral had already left before he explained what happened to his wife. “Whatever you’re talking about, he honestly might not remember,” I said. “If it has to do with his wife.”

  “What?”

  “It is true,” Reun said. He wasn’t even trying to escape Taeral’s grip. “Aeshara cast a curse on me, so I’d not remember her. She succeeded in erasing all but the memory of the night I killed her.”

  Taeral stared at him. “You remember nothing she was involved in?”

  “No. Nothing.”

  He let go with a frustrated snort. “Well, then I’ll not remind you,” he said. “It may give you ideas for the future.”

  “Taeral, please. Tell me what I’ve done, so I can atone for my transgressions. I swear I’ve changed.”

  Taeral fixed him with a blank expression. “If you’ve truly changed, Lord Reun, you’ll not want to know.”

  “Uh, guys?” I gestured at the sky, which was still currently soaking us all. “Any chance we can take this inside? I don’t know about you, but I’ve had plenty of showering today. And it’s getting cold.”

  “Fine. I’d planned to allow the Seelie in,” Taeral said. “You may as well come now. Reun, you are welcome to enter my father’s house.”

  Reun gave a bare nod. “I accept with thanks.”

  “I’d not be thankful, if I were you.” He turned and headed for the entrance.

  I had to wonder what Taeral was going for here. Whatever it was, it wouldn’t be good for Reun.

  CHAPTER 12

  A few minutes later, the four of us were back in the parlor. Sadie had scrounged some dry towels, so at least no one was currently dripping on the floor. And Taeral had reclaimed his unopened bottle, like just holding it was enough to keep his demons at bay.

  Apparently one of those demons was Reun.

  “You do not remember,” Taeral said from his slumped seat at the table. “I suppose that does explain some of your recent behavior. It nearly amuses me.”

  Reun stood by the window, arms folded across his waist. “Whatever I’ve done, I am truly sorry,” he said. “I cannot imagine forcing anyone into a gealdht.”

  “Perhaps because you’ve not imagined what came before it.”

  Sadie, who’d been standing next to me, sat in the chair beside Taeral. “Maybe you shouldn’t talk about this,” she said gently. “Sometimes the past should stay there.”

  “Oh, but Lord Reun wishes to know. And who am I to deny him what he wants?” The vicious edge in Taeral’s voice could have cut through steel. “Only the son of the Unseelie Queen’s most favored noble, the Captain of the Guard. Something he should have perhaps discovered before he had me dragged in front of the Seelie Court and whipped until I could no longer stand. For speaking to his wife.”

  A stunned silence fell on the room. I decided I’d better sit down, before my twisting gut made me fall. I’d seen Taeral’s back the first time we met. It was covered with scars, and I remembered thinking, at the time, it was the only thing we had in common. A lot of scars.

  But it sounded like he’d gotten most of his all at once.

  Reun’s jaw dropped. “I’d not have done that,” he said, his voice barely carrying. “It cannot be true.”

  “Not true?” Taeral gave a cold laugh. “You had the whip soaked in mandrake oil and enchanted with the spell from Aeshara’s dagger, to ensure that I would always bear the scars. Do you want to see the proof of it?”

  “No. I’ll take your word.” He closed his eyes. “Forgive me, but what dagger? I remember none of this.”

  “It was a drais-ghan, a spelled dagger. Curved and serrated, etched with runes that increased the damage done.”

  I knew that weapon. He had at least two of them, for some reason, and he’d given one to me. Now I was really glad he hadn’t stabbed me with it, back when he thought I was just a random human invading his tent. Being cut with a regular knife was bad enough.

  Reun’s shoulders slumped. “I recall no such weapon.”

  “As I said, it belonged to your wife.” Taeral leaned his head back. “My father admired weapons. He worked a great deal with them—collected them, trained with them. He’d always sought more, for himself and the Guard’s arsenal. Aeshara told him of the dagger, and he asked for it so he could duplicate it. She agreed. So he sent me with her to fetch it.” He looked at Reun. “When you found me in your home, with your wife, you asked no questions. You simply decreed punishment. And Aeshara said nothing in my defense.”

  “I do not understand,” Reun said in unsteady tones. “Why would I have done this?”

  Taeral’s lip curled. “You’d not shared your motivations with me.”

  “I cannot...” Reun shuddered. “You said I forced you into a promise.”

  “Aye, you did,” Taeral said. “After you had me whipped, someone informed you who I was. You feared retaliation from the Unseelie Court. A smear to your precious reputation. So you made me swear not to tell my father, or anyone who might inform him, what had happened. Which was everyone I knew.” He shook his head. “And now the gealdht is broken, because no one can tell my father anything he’ll understand or remember.”

  After a long silence, Reun said, “If I’ve done this to you, this...unforgivable horror. Why have you invited me into your father’s house?”

  I’d
been wondering that myself—and now I was thinking maybe he just wanted to kill him somewhere dry. At least I understood why he’d hated Reun so violently since the moment Sadie told him the Seelie was working for Milus Dei.

  “I’ve brought you here to atone for your actions,” Taeral said, and his voice was dangerously calm. “Is that not what you want?”

  “Yes, of course,” he rasped, drawing himself straight. “Anything.”

  “Taeral,” Sadie murmured. “Don’t....”

  He silenced her with a look, and then stood and approached Reun. “Then you will swear to protect my father, and all who reside in this house, until I return. You will swear not to harm anyone. You will do this knowing there are many here who’ve cause to harm you, and who may do so. Do you understand this?”

  “You can’t make him do that,” I said. I wasn’t exactly feeling the love for Reun, even though he really didn’t seem to know what happened. But if he wanted someone to take care of Daoin, this wasn’t going to work. Reun wouldn’t survive long enough. “Denei and Zoba, they’ll kill him. Grygg might too.”

  Taeral turned his too-calm gaze to me. “My father is defenseless. I cannot leave him without absolute protection, and this is the only way to get it,” he said. “I’ll not allow anyone to kill the Seelie. But I cannot—and will not—ensure he’s not harmed.”

  “I’ll swear it,” Reun said. “If I am harmed, it’s no less than I deserve. I hereby vow to—”

  “Wait. You’ll vow this to Daoin.”

  With that, Taeral walked from the room.

  I’d never experienced a longer, more awkward silence.

  If there was anything to say, I had no idea what it was. Sadie looked just as stunned as I felt, and Reun was a study in misery.

  Eventually he roused himself and directed a haggard stare at the table. “For what it’s worth, you’ve both my apologies for what I’ve done. I...cannot imagine how this happened.”

  “Well, it did happen. I’ve seen the evidence.” Sadie knuckled her eyes and drew a watery breath. “He never talked about the scars. Now I know why.”

  “Mandrake oil,” Reun muttered. “Not once in my life have I considered using that as a punishment. This curse...if Aeshara meant to destroy me, she’s managed it. Three hundred years of fragmented memories, with all that she’d touched torn away.” He leaned back against the window. “Was I truly such a monster?”

  “Three hundred years?” I blurted without meaning to. “How old are you, anyway?”

  He laughed bitterly. “Nearly seven hundred. And I do not recall myself as being cruel, or quite so arrogant as this. At least for the first four centuries.”

  Taeral came back in before I could decide how to react to that. Daoin walked beside him, back to his usual pale blue self and more alert than before. When he saw Reun, his expression tightened for a few seconds. But then he smiled. “Reun,” he said. “I remember your name. You’re...my friend.”

  “Yes, Lord Daoin. I am.” Reun shuddered and stepped forward.

  “Father, your friend would like to make you a promise,” Taeral said. “Will you hear him?”

  “A promise,” Daoin repeated, his brow furrowed. “Promises must be...kept.”

  “Aye, that’s right. And he’ll keep this one.”

  Without prompting, Reun dropped to a knee in front of Daoin. “I hereby vow to protect you and keep you from harm, and to protect those who dwell in this house and keep them from harm, and to do no harm myself to anyone in this house, until such time as Taeral Ciar’ Ansghar returns from his journey.” He bowed his head and traced an X on his chest with a finger.

  Trails of light appeared along the path of the X to burn briefly, and then fade away.

  Daoin frowned a bit. “Are you going to live in my castle, then?” he said.

  “Yes, Lord Daoin. If you’ll have me.”

  “Sure. There’s plenty of room,” Daoin said. “You don’t have to call me Lord, though. It’s not really a castle,” he added in a loud whisper.

  Reun looked up at him with a genuine smile. “But you are my lord. And I am your...knight. Here to serve you and defend your castle.”

  “Then you are Sir Reun.” Daoin returned the smile with simple innocence. “Come, Sir Reun. I’ll show you to your room, and mine.”

  Reun rose and gave Taeral a wordless glance of apology, then followed Daoin out.

  “He’ll care for him,” Taeral said when they were gone. “And we must leave as soon as possible, if we’re to help your family, a’ghreal.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “Taeral, I’m so sorry about—”

  “Enough,” he said, not unkindly. “The subject needs no further discussion. As you mentioned, it is the past.”

  She nodded. “All right. Give me fifteen minutes to pack, and I’ll meet you out front.”

  “I’m going to assume we’re driving there,” I said. “Should be faster than trying to deal with the trains. I’ll go get the van ready.”

  “Very well. Sadie and I will join you soon.” Taeral’s features twisted in exasperation. “I’ve a need to visit the fourth floor and threaten the Duchenes, so they’ll not kill my father’s...knight.”

  I thought I saw him smirking as he walked away. But I probably imagined it.

  CHAPTER 13

  Taeral apparently didn’t know how to drive, and Sadie was a wreck, so I was elected. Not that I minded. No one but me had ever driven my van, and I wasn’t sure I wanted that to change. Besides, it was only about two and a half hours to Elk Heights—I’d put in more road time than that on a daily basis for years, moving bodies.

  Sadie took the passenger seat, and Taeral sat on the floor just behind us. I’d offered him my bed, or the stretcher, but he declined for some reason. Even after I swore I’d never transported a body on the bed.

  I wasn’t that surprised. Most everyone got squeamish about corpses and the places they might have been. My views were an extreme exception.

  Conversation was nonexistent until we hit the Jersey Turnpike and the long stretch of I-80. A few minutes after we got through the toll booth and settled into cruising speed, Sadie shook herself to alertness and frowned. “I have to tell you guys something,” she said. “I don’t want to, but I need to warn you.”

  “About what?” I said.

  “My pack.” She stared out the windshield, tucking her hands under her arms. “They hate the Fae, obviously. Most weres do. But they hate humans who know what we are a lot more. I don’t know what they’re going to make of you, Gideon. The thing is, whatever you do…don’t let them get the idea that you’re involved with me. Either of you.”

  I couldn’t see Taeral’s face, but I’d bet he managed to keep it expressionless. So I’d ask the obvious. “Is it a problem if I can tell you two have a…thing?” I said. “Or had one, anyway?”

  Sadie looked at me. “You can?”

  “Uh, yeah. You’ve got that love-hate thing, the whole ‘we got it on once’ forecast with a fifty percent chance of surprise angry sex.”

  “That is not your business, brother,” Taeral said tightly.

  “Trust me, I don’t want to know. I’m just saying I noticed.”

  “Oh, God,” Sadie said. “Taeral, have you ever thought that me and Gideon…um, you know? Be honest.”

  He didn’t answer right away. Eventually he said, “I suppose the thought had crossed my mind, on occasion.”

  “Well, you were wrong,” I said. “Just so you know.”

  Sadie drew a deep breath. “Okay, listen. We can’t let them get that impression. You’ve got to be careful. They’ll kill you.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “Overprotective father?”

  “I’m not kidding.” Something in her eyes shut down, and she turned back to the windshield. “I told you I left when I was seventeen,” she said. “I had a boyfriend—fully human. Lived in Elk Heights. His name was Michael Nelson.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that was.

  She swallowed brief
ly. “We’d been together a little over three years. I mean, we were just kids, but you know how it is. To a teenager, everything in your life is the most important thing ever. And…he asked me to marry him.”

  “At seventeen?” I said. “That sounds pretty serious to me.”

  “Well, it’s a small town. Kids marry young a lot, mostly because there’s nothing better to do. But I did love him,” she said with a shuddering sigh. “I thought I wanted to marry him, but I couldn’t see spending the rest of my life trying to hide the fact that I was a werewolf. I wouldn’t have been able to anyway—our time of the month is a real bitch.”

  “I’d have to agree with that,” Taeral said in dry tones.

  I had to assume she meant the full moon. Last month she’d gone away for a few days when the moon shone its brightest. No explanation, except that she didn’t want to be near anyone who would prefer to stay alive.

  “So anyway,” she said. “Instead of breaking it off with him like my family wanted me to, I told him the truth. And he, understandably, freaked out and avoided me. But a few days later, he found me in town—and said he was okay with it. That he was scared, but he still wanted to make it work. Because he loved me.”

  She stopped talking, and I thought she wouldn’t go on. But then she said, “I told my pack that Michael knew, and I was going to marry him. They were furious. They insisted I had to turn him, make him a werewolf. I refused. Turned weres have a lot harder time with control, and I wasn’t going to do that to him.” She closed her eyes and flinched. “So they killed him.”

  “Jesus Christ,” I said roughly. “They just flat-out murdered him?”

  “Yes, and not just him. They killed his whole family—his parents, his younger sister. In case he’d told any of them.” A dark look settled on her face. “My father, my brother, my uncle and cousin. One for each human, so none of them could get away. They killed them in their beds, and they burned the house down.” She shuddered. “Marlon, my brother…he took Michael. Told me he begged for his family’s lives. And for mine. He knew he was going to die, and he begged my brother not to hurt me.”